Iskra's Poems
(Poems from a gentler soul)
I envy the lizard partaking with me
The silence under the sun.
I envy the snake in the evenings.
Twisted in passion around you.
They each time loose parts of their bodies,
Yet remaining whole.
My skin and soul are ragged by the changes.
And I am only holes.
(About real poets and my
clumsy verses)
'From my mud-pool I try,
To croak stylish rhymes.
From a nearby tree
A nightingale winks at me.
The perfect warblings reach me.
Ashamed I dive to hide in the mud
But there I see a rainbow reflected
which seems the same as that above...
And then I croak again.
*
I'm drowning into sadness
On a friendship lost.
I'm stretching my hand,-
Naively looking for a sunray to catch.
But not for me.
To another drowning man
(Here there are certain
future "corpses"
I dream to give it not related to anyone)
Instead of straw to clutch.
My truths and your lies are so much alike. Bad
translation
We use for them the same words
We often say 'I love you',
But we sound totally different.
Oh, Lord, why do I feel then so attracted
By my sweet deceits and your rude revelations?
*
I'd like to be a street singer,
Deep in thought to pull the strings
And huskily to narrate about love.
About this love among the people
That vanished as if, replaced by
Digital screen pulsations
Instead of beating hearts.
I'd like to be a street vendor,
Hoarsely to shout to crestfallen, hurried passers-by
and forcefully to offer souls a handful of another,
good and tenderer world.
But I feel already tired
Of my best desires.
I probably became
just another street-girl.
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